


A Platypus Is Not A Spy

by MizJoely



Series: The Hudson Chronicles [5]
Category: Phineas and Ferb, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, crackfic, general silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Platypus Is Not A Spy (Or, How Sherlock Holmes Teamed Up With An Australian Mammal To Stop Doofenshmirtz’s Latest Evil Plan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Platypus Is Not A Spy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilsherlockian1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/gifts).



> This one's for you, H. Sorry it's taken me so long to finish up!

He was seeing things; he had to be. Sherlock Holmes, world’s first – and only – Consulting Detective shut his eyes, opened them, blinked rapidly, then rubbed them.

There was still a three-foot-tall, green, hat-wearing duck-billed platypus standing in front of him.

Standing, as it was, on its hind legs, with its forelegs folded across its chest as if said legs were actually arms. Hang on, there were….one, two, three fingers and a thumb, so it was arms?

He must have hit his head, he concluded dizzily as he and the platypus continued their staring match. “A platypus in a hat,” he said slowly. “A green furred, duck-billed platypus standing roughly three feet tall on its hind legs. In my flat.” He shook his head; nope, no shooting pains, no actual dizziness. And no, he hadn’t taken any drugs. Maybe someone had pumped some sort of hallucinogenic into the air? He sniffed, but smelled only the usual – gunpowder, chemicals, a whiff of decomp, the awful floral air freshener Mrs. Hudson occasionally spritzed in spite of his objections, and leftover Kung Pow Chicken.

Molly would never believe this, even if he took pictures with his mobile and sent them to her. She’d think it was a prank and call him a git and make him sleep on the sofa…

“Attention Sherlock Holmes!”

Sherlock jumped a bit, staring down at the unwelcome visitor to his flat once again. “Oh, God, not a talking platypus?”

“No, it’s not Agent P, speaking, it’s me, Major Monogram!” Sherlock finally registered that the voice was coming from his own laptop, and turned to see a stern looking grey-haired – and mustached – man looking at him. “Agent P is here to collect you for the case your brother’s assured us only you can handle.”

Drat, Mycroft, of course. He should have known not to make blanket promises to take on whatever case his brother needed him for in exchange for his help in keeping Molly safe from the Moriarty imposter. Drat and double drat! “Fine,” he said with an exasperated – and highly exaggerated – sigh. “Just tell me why I’m working with an anthropomorphic platypus? A Baskerville platypus, I presume?” he added, side-eyeing ‘Agent P’ as he walked over to stand next to Sherlock in front of the computer. “Clearly it’s not a midget in a costume, so genetic engineering is the only logical…”

“There’s no time for logic, man! We have to stop Doofenshmirtz from his latest attempt to take over the tri-city area!” the man on the computer screen exclaimed, pounding his fist down on some unseen surface off-camera. What was his name again? Colonel Mustard, or something like that. Sherlock dismissed it as unimportant, mind focusing on the case.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific, as I’m not familiar with whatever tri-city area you’re talking about,” he said coolly. “You’re obviously American, easily excited and with a flair for the dramatics that tells me you’ve worked with my brother before.” He sniffed. “He’s such a drama queen! Anyway, whoever this ‘Doofenschmirtz’ is, I’m confident I’ll be able to take him down for you. Now give me the details, there’s a good chap.” He gave his widest, most insincere smile, but the man on the screen seemed to take it face value, relaxing a bit and mopping his brow with a white handkerchief – mass produced, cheap, unraveling a bit in one corner from overuse, Sherlock noted automatically.

“Doofenschmirtz is in London, Mr. Holmes. He plans to use the London Eye in some diabolical scheme of his. Agent P has the dossier with the pertinent facts about this insidious criminal mastermind, and your brother’s arranged for a car to pick you both up. Oh, and he says to tell you that Molly – is it Molly?” he interrupted himself to ask someone off-camera, who murmured a response. “He says Molly sends her love and is enjoying her weekend in the Baha….ah, wherever it is she’s currently staying,” the Colonel – General? – corrected himself hastily. “The top secret location that even you don’t know, for her protection during this case. Oh, wait, no, sorry; for her protection until you take this Moriarty chap down.”

“A far more dangerous criminal than this ‘Doofenschmirtz chap’,” Sherlock snapped. “You and Mycroft are both lucky that I’m still waiting for some vital information to come in or you’d be stuck dealing with this little crisis on your own!”

He turned to face the platypus – Agent P – and held out his hand impatiently. A sheaf of papers loosely clipped together inside a manila folder was slapped into his hand (where the devil had the little beast had it stashed?) and he quickly started scanning the pages, mumbling to himself as he and his new partner headed downstairs and into the waiting car.

**Meanwhile, at the London Eye…**

Vanessa Doofenschmirtz rolled her eyes as her father eagerly explained his Evil Plan to her. “And then, using the London Eye as an integral part of my Giant Wheel of Doominator, I’ll simply roll into the tri-state area and take over! Well? How does that sound?”

“Like the worst idea ever, Dad,” she said with a much-put-upon sigh. “For one thing, you can’t just roll that thing across the Atlantic Ocean, right? How are you going to get it back home? Can’t we just go to Madame Tussauds?” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality. “There’s a new exhibit of this really hot actor named Ben…”

“No, no, no museum trips to look at hot actors!” her father interrupted her hastily. He had ZERO interest in watching his sweet little baby girl drool over some idiot in a nice suit. Not that he had any clue which actor she meant of course! “As for getting the Doominator back home, I’ll just use this hamster control device I’ve whipped up,” he tapped the gadget in his left hand, “zap the little rascals with my Growth Ray,” he pulled that particular device out of his back pocket and waved it at his daughter, “and blam! Giant hamsters to spin the wheel across the ocean and back home, where I’ll shrink them back to their normal size and add the wheel to my device. And best of all, no Perry the Platypus to get in the way since he’ll never expect to see me here!”

“Wrong on all counts,” came a bored British voice from behind them. 

Doofenschmirtz and his daughter both turned to stare at the eavesdropper, Vanessa appreciatively – oh, he was cute! – and her father with a scowl. “And just who do you think you are?” he asked, annoyed at being interrupted during such a crucial father-daughter moment – not to mention right in the midst of his dramatic monologue! Really, British people could be so rude!

“I am Sherlock Holmes,” the man announced, as if that name was supposed to mean something to the CEO and founder of Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporated. “And I believe you’ve already met my associate.”

With a dramatic swirl of his dark coat – Doofenschmirtz begrudgingly had to admit the stranger had style – Sherlock Holmes stepped to one side, revealing the small green form of…

“Perry the Platypus! How did you find me?” the evil scientist and would-be ruler of the Tri-City Area screeched. 

His nemesis simply tilted his head to one side as if to say, “Really?”

Doofenschmirtz sighed. So much for his wonderful new plan. Luckily he had a quick escape ready to go; as Perry and Sheerluck whatever-his-name-was moved to handcuff him, he quickly depressed a button on the control device. He and Vanessa were enclosed in a clear plastic bubble, safety harnesses strapped them to the column in the center, the rockets on the bottom ignited, and soon they were launched into the atmosphere and making their way safely back home. Vanessa sighed; she’d really wanted to get to Madame Tussauds! Daddy was always messing things up like this! Still, it was kind of nice, flying home without having to worry about customs or cheap airline seats. 

But she was definitely going to make him take her back for a real vacation sometime soon!

oOo

Sherlock and Perry watched as Doofenschmirtz and Vanessa disappeared from view. The platypus ripped his hat from his head and threw it to the ground in a display of temper worthy of Gavin Lestrade on a tear. “Sooo,” Sherlock said, drawing out the word as he placed his hands into his coat pockets and rocked back on his heels. “That just happened. I’m guessing this means you’ll be heading back to America, then?”

Perry nodded dejectedly as he picked up his hat, dusted it off, and jammed it back on his head. “A bit anticlimactic, that, but hey, on the bright side, neither one of us ended up captured and subjected to some boring monologue whilst an excruciatingly complex plan was put into action in order to do us in, right?”

Perry stared at him, and Sherlock immediately deduced his questions. “Ah yes, it’s quite clear that your nemesis is generally surprised by you, manages to temporarily incapacitate and capture you, then expounds endlessly upon whatever crackpot scheme he’s cooked up, thus giving you plenty of time to free yourself and stop him. Doofenschmirtz then makes his escape and you both vow to take each other down the next time. Do stop me if I’m wrong,” he added politely. 

Perry slowly shook his head, and Sherlock grinned, pulling his hands from his pockets and clapping them together. “So! All that’s left is for you to make your report to that shouty red-faced man on the computer screen and off you pop, back to America. But first,” he added, “I know a really good chip shop on Marleybone Road. Fancy a bite?”

What else could Perry do but nod?

He might not be much of a conversationalist, but he did appreciate a good fish-and-chips meal!


End file.
